Page 17 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 17

“Time to go,” Droilin says, his deep voice echoing off the bare walls.

Groaning, I stand, my muscles protesting after a night on the thin, lumpy mattress.

Droilin produces a set of chains, the metal clinking ominously in the quiet room. My stomach churns at the sight, a visceral reminder of my status here.

“I’m sorry, but I have to...” He looks apologetic as he secures the cuffs around my wrists and waist.

The cold metal bites into my skin, and I suppress a shiver. As Droilin leans in to check the fit, his warm breath ghosts over my neck, sending a tingle down my spine. I inhale sharply, his scent filling my nostrils—something uniquely him.

He steps back, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, the air between us crackles. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice rough.

I wince as I step out into the biting cold, the icy wind cutting through my wool sweater like a thousand tiny knives. The chains around my wrists and waist clink with each movement. My breath puffs out in frosty clouds as I take in the settlement sights.

Droilin walks beside me, his muscular frame providing shelter from the harsh elements. I can’t help but glance at the cut on his forehead, the result of my panic last night.

Guilt gnaws at my insides.

“I’m really sorry about that,” I say, gesturing to his injury.

He shakes his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Stop apologizing. It’s not a big deal.”

But it is to me. After all the kindness he’s shown me, the least I can do is not attack him when he brings me dinner.

I clear my throat.

We walk along a narrow path between two buildings, the tall, craggy mountains looming overhead.

“What’s our plan for today?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence.

“You’ll be accompanying me as I assess the luminore survey data,” he explains. “We need to determine the current level of mining activity and assess the remaining ore supply.”

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help with that, but I nod anyway. It sounds much more appealing than dying in the void of space.

As we make our way through the settlement, I take in the bleak surroundings. The ramshackle metal structures huddle together, as if seeking comfort from the unforgiving landscape.

Morcrestians go about their daily tasks, their faces weathered and worn. Children, bundled in tattered furs, chase each other through the streets, throwing the dirty snow and laughing.

Droilin guides me through the settlement, his broad shoulders shielding me from the worst of the wind.

“The Frosthok clan has seen better days,” he says, his voice low as we pass a group of Morcrestians loading a cart with tools and supplies. “The war, the sanctions... they’ve left their mark.”

I nod, trying to imagine what life must be like here. The rundown buildings and the outdated technology that resembles an Orion Museum exhibit. I watch the surrounding workers, their movements slow and labored.

As we walk, curious stares bore into me. Whispers follow in our wake, the word “human” hissing from lips like a curse. I keep my eyes forward, trying to ignore the hostility that hangs thick in the air.

Suddenly, Droilin pauses, his attention drawn to an elderly Morcrestian hunched under the weight of a large, battered crate. The old orc’s limbs tremble with exertion, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Without hesitation, Droilin steps forward, his powerful hands reaching out to relieve the elderly orc.

As I watch, a sharp pain explodes through my hip, and I crumple to the ground. Snow seeps into my clothes, the icy moisture biting at my skin. Wincing, I look up to see the snowball throwing culprit. A female orc looms over me, her eyes blazing with unrestrained hatred.

Something twists in my gut, and I glance away. I don’t belong here, not among the Frosthok. Not among orcs.

She spits a string of harsh, guttural words that slice through the air like razor blades. I don’t understand them, but the venom in her tone leaves no doubt as to her feelings about me.

Her hand rises, and I brace myself for the blow, but it never comes.

Droilin is there, his large frame blocking her. He speaks to her in a low, menacing tone, his words indecipherable to me. The female backs down, casting me one last venomous glare before slinking away.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I try to catch my breath. Droilin offers me his hand, and I take it gratefully, his grip warm and firm.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern etched on his face.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He pulls me up, his touch gentle but firm. His hands linger on my arms for a moment, as if reluctant to let go.

Shaking his head, Droilin turns and continues down the path, my chain tight in his grip.

The crowd disperses, but the hostility hangs thick in the air. I stick close to Droilin as we walk towards the mine, my eyes darting warily, half-expecting another attack.

His face is a mask of calm composure, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his anger.

“She had no right to treat you like that,” he says quietly. “You’re not to blame for what happened.”

I look up at him, surprised by his words of support. A part of me is touched by his kindness, but another part remains guarded, hesitant to rely on anyone else.

“It’s not your fault you’re here,” he says again, more firmly this time.

I give him a curt nod. This place may be my temporary home, but I refuse to let it break me, even if it means facing hateful orcs in the street head-on.

We approach the entrance to Frosthok mine. A gaping maw carved into the side of a snow-covered mountain. The dark, jagged hole beckons us like a hungry mouth, ready to swallow us whole. It stands at the top of a snowy hill overlooking the settlement.

“Here we are,” Droilin says as we walk up the icy slope. His giant hands on the base of my back feels reassuring.

My boots crunch on the frozen ground as we enter, the temperature dropping instantly.

“It’s huge,” I gasp, awestruck by the sheer size of the space. The ceiling arches high above, disappearing into darkness.

Dusty beams of light filter through gaps in the walls, illuminating the interior. I breathe, looking around in awe. All over, crystals glitter like stars, and the air smells metallic and damp.

“Frosthok found the first luminore, and it is the largest mine on Morcrest.” Droilin says, his voice proud. “Come, let’s find the Foreman.”

Droilin leads me to a cramped old-fashioned elevator shaft, the cables creaking and groaning as we descend into the darkness. Finally, the lift stops, and we step out, the air cold and musty.

The sound of clanking machinery and raised voices echo. There are piles of rocks and rubble everywhere. The jagged walls are lined with wooden beams supporting the cavern’s structure. I’m surprised to see how old-fashioned the tools are, pickaxes, hammers and mining carts.

The tunnels are dark and twisted. It’s an eerie place, and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up.

“It’s perfectly safe, you know. Are you scared?” Droilin asks, looking at me.

“A little,” I admit. “It’s creepy down here. Like something might jump out at us any minute.”

He smiles, a dimple forming on his cheek.

“I’ll keep you safe, Tasha,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft.

My pulse quickens, his closeness and words igniting a flicker of heat inside me.

“You promise?” I ask, gazing up at him.

“Always,” he rumbles.

We walk deeper into the tunnel; the air growing colder. Droilin’s hand never leaves mine. His warm touch anchors me.

As we turn the corner, the tunnel unfolds into a spacious chamber, adorned with rows of luminore crystals along its walls.

“This way, his office is at the end of this tunnel.” Droilin steps ahead of me and I feel the loss of his touch instantly. I follow close behind, trying not to think about how deep we are underground.

We come to a large wooden door. Droilin knocks twice, and it swings open to reveal a hulking orc with thick red hair and carved tusks, wearing a pair of dirty overalls and a hardhat.

“Greetings, Throk. Our High Chieftain has sent us to review the mining records.” Droilin says, his voice commanding and confident.

The orc nods slowly, his eyes never leaving me.

Droilin sighs and pushes past him.

We step into a dingy office. Thick layers of dust coat everything, and the air is stale. The only source of light is a set of grimy lamps high on the wall.

Droilin clears off a chair for me, the wooden seat groaning under his weight. He sits at the desk, his massive body dwarfing the space.

“Very well, but the High Chieftain is aware that the mine has been experiencing difficulties?” Throk says, his voice gruff.

Droilin pauses for a moment. “That is part of why we are here. The STI has updated our quota’s. I’m here to assess our current levels, stores and equipment.”

I study Droilin, impressed by his calm authority. As much as I admire him, I can’t afford to let my guard down completely. Not anymore. Trust is a luxury I can’t indulge in, not when my survival is at stake.

Still, I can’t deny the flicker of curiosity and respect that Droilin’s confidence ignites within me. So, I file away my observations for now.

“I can’t allow a human into our most sacred mines,” Throk snorts, his voice thick with disdain.

Droilin gives me an apologetic look, but his jaw is set.

He rises from his chair, his broad frame filling the room. He stares down at the foreman, his eyes hard.

“We have our orders, Throk. And as a Frosthok warrior, you know you will follow them. Now, let’s get started.”

“Fine!” Throk barks before he rummages through a pile of hololedgers, until he pulls out a battered one and hands it to Droilin. “Everything is in there,” he says gruffly, his voice gravelly and deep.

As Droilin studies it carefully, his brow wrinkled in concentration, I look about the cramped office. It is evidently the heart of the mining operation here, with maps and diagrams hanging on the walls, and stacks of paperwork littering the desk. I spot a large crystal embedded in the wall, glowing softly. Luminore.

I notice a framed photograph hanging on the wall behind Throk. It’s a picture of him as a young male, standing with his arm wrapped around a female orc. They’re both smiling, and she looks radiant, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

I wonder if I will ever find a joy like that, someone to share life with. It will not happen while I’m in exile. Another reason to fight for my innocence.

“I don’t understand why the High Chieftain would trust a human with such an important task,” Throk asks as he sits behind the desk.

I stiffen, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into me.

Droilin sighs, running a hand through his white hair. “He didn’t,” he replies bluntly. “I did.”

“And why should I trust a human who doesn’t even know the basics of Orion’s trade laws and the value of luminore?” Throk replies, his tone mocking.

My blood boils. I bite back a retort, not wanting to antagonize the foreman.

Droilin leans forward, his hands resting on the desk.

“Because, Throk,” Droilin growls, his voice low and dangerous. “I am not asking for your trust. I am telling you that this is the High Chieftain’s order. If you have a problem with that, then take it up with him. Now, give me the latest hololedger, then take us to the stores.”

Throk glares at Droilin, his nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he nods, grudgingly handing over the hololedger, which Droilin examines.

“How much luminore do you have in storage, Throk?”

“Not enough,” Throk replies, his face grim.

“And how much has been mined in the last few months?” Droilin continues.

“Hard to know,” Throk says, rubbing his chin. “But we’ve been falling behind ever since the coconectar supply line was reduced by Clan Jrosk. The workers are tired, and morale is low.”

My ears prick at the sound of coconectar, the sweet fruit not only hydrates but infuses the body with electrolytes for energy. It is a staple in the space station. I haven’t had any since being exiled to Morcrest. The idea makes my mouth water.

“I see,” Droilin says. “Well, it is clear that we will need to make some changes if we are to keep up with the demands of the new STI trade agreements. Do you have a plan for getting the workers back on track?”

“We have a new batch of workers being sent from the STI contractor in the next rotations. Hopefully, they will help.” Throk replies, but his voice is lacking confidence.

“And what of the equipment?” Droilin asks, frowning.

“Our equipment is old, and most of it was damaged during the recent raids.” Throk’s voice is weary.

Sensing an opportunity to do something useful, I leap on it. “Maybe I can take a look. I worked on machinery at my last job,” I say.

“And what do you know... human?” Throk demands.

“Tasha,” I reply. “My name is Tasha Williams. I used to work as an engineer, fixing up broken equipment.”

Throk looks skeptical, but Droilin nods.

“I have seen her work firsthand. She has a keen mind for machinery and engineering,” Droilin says, surprising me.

“Fine, but don’t go poking around where you don’t belong.” Throk scowls.

“I will be with her, making sure she follows protocol.” Droilin assures him.

“Good,” Throk says, satisfied, “follow me, then.”

We leave the office and walk down a dusty, narrow corridor lined with metal doors. At the end, Throk pushes a large button and a panel slides open, revealing a dark, cavernous space filled with rows of dead machinery.

I gasp, the sight stunning me. The room is silent, the still air heavy with the stench of decay and neglect. I feel as though I’ve walked into a tomb, the darkness pressing in around me.

Immediately I survey the room, my engineer’s eye identifying the issues. I look past the decay and neglect, instead I see potential beneath the surface. My mind races with ideas for repairs and improvements. The thrill of a technical challenge at my fingertips.

My feet crunch on broken glass and bits of plastic as I move further into the room, the chains dragging behind me. The sound echoes in the silence, reminding me of my predicament.

I turn to Droilin.

“Why weren’t they maintained?” I whisper.

“Loss of skills. Lots of our engineers were posted elsewhere in the Orion Wars. Most didn’t make it back.”

My stomach twists.

“How can I help?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“I’ll show you the machines,” Throk says gruffly.

For the next few hours, as Droilin pours over the hololedger from Throk, I am in my element amongst the machines at Frosthok. Immediately I see ways I can help the miners here. The equipment is old and needs regular maintenance.

Throk watches me like a hawk, but as I go about my work, I see him slowly relax. After a short time, I barely register anyone else in my vicinity. All I can see are rusty gears and cracked cogs, each one needing a special touch. My special touch.

“This machine here, the compressor, just needs some cleaning and greasing.” I call out, my excitement clear in my voice. I grab some tools and begin the repairs, my mind whirring with possibilities.

I could make things better here.

I try not to get ahead of myself as I look around for something else to inspect.

“I can’t believe the High Chieftain assigned a human to assist us. You must really be desperate if you are willing to stoop so low, Droilin.” Throk sneers as he watches me.

I bristle at his comment, my anger flaring. I bite back a sharp retort. My skills will speak for themselves. I focus on fixing the belt on this ancient extractor, determined to prove my worth and show Throk exactly what this human is capable of.

Droilin steps closer, his voice low and dangerous.

“I suggest you watch your tongue, Throk,” he growls. “Especially when the numbers in your hololedgers do not add up. Now, continue showing the human where the tools and parts are. Or would you rather explain those discrepancies to the High Chieftain directly? Perhaps the other clans would like to know about your failure to meet the STI quotas.”

I gasp, shocked at the revelation.

“What do you mean?” Throk asks, his face pale.

Droilin jabs at the hololedger. “The numbers don’t lie, Throk. We’re missing at least five percent of the luminore. You’ve been stealing it, haven’t you? Selling it off the books? Pocketing the profits? Do you really think the High Chieftain won’t notice your little scheme?”

The veins in Throk’s neck bulge, his fists clenching.

Throk’s face hardens as he growls, “Yes, a small percentage is missing, but I have nothing to do with it. These miners, they’re starving, their families are suffering. So what if a few ounces disappear to fill some bellies? You expect me to do cavity checks on every last one of them? For void’s sake, Droilin, have a heart!”

Droilin sighs, his expression softening.

“I understand, Throk. Times are tough, and the miners are struggling. But we can’t turn a blind eye to this. If the High Chieftain finds out, it’ll be both our heads on the chopping block. We need to find a way to help the miners without resorting to theft. Otherwise, this entire operation will come crashing down on us all.”

“Hold on,” I interject, my mind racing. “Throk, I get it. The miners are struggling, and it’s a tough situation. But Droilin’s right. Turning a blind eye to theft isn’t the answer.”

I turn to Droilin, my mind focused on. “I’ve got some ideas to boost efficiency and productivity in the mines. It could mean better wages for the miners, with no stealing.”

Droilin’s gaze flicks to Throk, then back to me. His brow is furrowed in thought.

“Droilin, I can fix this,” I say, my voice firm and confident. “Give me a chance to show you what I can do. I’ll have these machines running at peak efficiency in no time.”

Throk scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. “You think you can just waltz in here and solve all our problems, human? This isn’t some simple machine you can tinker with. These are lives we’re talking about. You’ve got no idea what it’s like down there, the sweat and blood we pour into these mines. But sure, go ahead and try your little tricks. Just don’t be surprised when it all blows up in your face.”

I bristle at Throk’s dismissive tone, my jaw clenching. I’ve faced plenty of skeptics and naysayers in my career, and I’m not about to back down now.

“Never said it would be easy,” I counter, meeting his gaze head-on. “But I’m not just some na?ve outsider. I’ve tackled complex problems before. You might be surprised by what a fresh perspective can bring to the table.”

Droilin lets out a long sigh. “Very well,” he says at last. “Tomorrow, we will come back. I want to look over the rest of these accounts Throk. If the STI is coming, it won’t just be the High Chieftain we have to worry about.”

Throk’s eyes dart from Droilin to me, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He seems to weigh his options, torn between his frustration and the realization that he may have pushed too far.

“Fine,” he grumbles, his voice low and grudging. “Have it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. These mines have a way of chewing up and spitting out even the toughest of us. You’d best watch your step, human.”

He turns to Droilin, his expression a mix of resignation and defiance. “I’ll have the other accounts ready for you tomorrow. But mark my words, if this all goes to hell, it won’t be on my head.”

Droilin gives him a hard stare. “Do not make me regret this.” He grabs the hololedger and heads towards the door, motioning for me to follow. The chain tugs at my wrists and ankles. I hurry to catch up with him, my mind whirling.

“Thank you, Tasha, I appreciate what you are doing for my clan,” Droilin greets me at the door.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, feeling a little awkward under his scrutiny. I feel heat pool in my belly at the intensity of his gaze.

We make our way out of the mine, the air crisp. The twin suns setting, and the sky is bathed in shades of purple and blue.

“Now, let’s get you back to the barracks before Garrox gets too suspicious. We’ve been here too long,” Droilin says.

I nod, and we head out into the icy streets of Frosthok. As we walk, the stiff wind bites at my skin. Again, Droilin shields me from the worst of it, his body a wall of solid muscle against the elements.

As we approach my new quarters, my mind is buzzing with excitement. Working on the mining equipment has rekindled a spark within me, one I thought I’d lost forever.

When I was exiled, I feared I’d never work with machines again. Being cut off from my passion was almost too much to bear. But now, with the chance to leap into repairs and upgrades, I feel a flicker of optimism.

I look up at Droilin, his profile bathed in the soft lavender glow of the sunset. My pulse quickens with the familiar tug of attraction. He is a handsome, honorable orc. But I can’t afford any complications. I need to prove my innocence so I can leave here, a free woman.

“Thank you, Droilin, for giving me this chance,” I murmur.

He stops and turns to me, his eyes locking on mine.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice low and husky. He reaches out, his hand resting on my arm in a gesture of comfort and support.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. The air between us crackles with tension. Impulsively, I lean in, closing our distance. My lips meet his in a soft kiss.

The world falls away, and there’s only the two of us, caught up in the moment. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and I melt into him, our bodies pressed together.

But all too soon, the moment passes, and reality sets in. I pull away, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, averting my gaze.

“Don’t be,” he rumbles, in a deep growl. He looks almost pained as he moves to leave.

“Get some rest, Tasha,” he says, his voice low. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Night, Droilin.”

With that, he turns and leaves, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance. As he walks away, the chains tighten, a reminder of my situation.

But, as I sit on my bed, I can’t help but smile. I can’t deny it anymore. There’s something between us, an undeniable attraction.

The thought should terrify me, but it fills me with a strange sense of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, things are finally looking up.